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Hawley complacates Lewis
Thanks to MillieGriffin for the transcript. Jekyll1886: Lewis sat on a flat, stone bench in the Society's garden, crutches to hand. Nearby was a well established Japanese wisteria plant in full bloom, its violet flowers perfuming the air with a vaguely grape-like scent. It was not quite two in the afternoon, the day after the aborted dinner at The Quenched Thirst. He and Hawley were to meet shortly, in order to settle their accounts. Weir wore his red waistcoat today, so that he'd be easy to spot. He had on gloves, but no coat. He'd chosen to wear dark trousers, just in case Griffin managed to reopen his wound again. Dr. H. Griffin: Griffin, checking his clock, realised that he was to meet Weir. But where? ((Pardon the pun)) Weir hadn't told him where to meet, or perhaps Griffin hadn't bothered to remember. Deciding to become invisible, just in case that Weir would turn hostile, Griffin took his wallet and a single ampule of his compound. After reaching the garden, Griffin saw Weir sitting on one of the stone benches. Right. Griffin took a sip of the formula, and waited. After a few brief minutes, Griffin's hands, face; his entire body, gone. After undressing, Griffin fetched a two twenty pound notes from his wallet, and walked over to Lewis. Jekyll1886: Lewis saw the seemingly floating money and chuckled. "Hello, Griffin. Meeting au naturel today, are we?" Dr. H. Griffin: "What you can't see can't hurt you, Weir." replied Griffin, tossing the notes at Weir. "Here's your damned payment." Jekyll1886: That's a barefaced lie, thought Lewis at Hawley's first statement. And not-so-subtle threat. Always something with this one, isn't there? Can't do anything graciously... The notes fluttered to the bench and Weir's lap. "Then we're done," remarked Lewis. Or, at least, I'm willing for us to be. The rest is up to Griffin... Dr. H. Griffin: "Fine." Griffin walked away, but stopped in his tracks. He almost completely forgot what else he was going to do. "Aheh, silly me. Completely forgot." Griffin waltzed up to Weir. Jekyll1886:"What is it now?" asked Lewis, his tone between weary and wary. Dr. H. Griffin: "This." Griffin raised his foot and stamped it hard on Weir's wound. Jekyll1886: Lewis gave a quickly-stifled cry. Without warning, he dropped the crutches; his hands snaked out to grab the invisible man's leg, fingers digging in so hard they left bruises, and yanked it out from under him. "Couldn't leave well enough alone, could you, Griffin?" he asked through gritted teeth. He tucked both of his attacker's knees into the bend of his right arm and held it close to his body, effectively immobilizing Hawley's legs. At the same time, Weir--still seated--brought his good foot down on Griffin's abdomen, the heel of his shoe striking his invisible assailant right in the solar plexus. Dr. H. Griffin: Griffin managed to suppress most of the pain through surprise as he toppled to the floor. "Nope!" rasped Griffin, suddenly elbowing Weir's wound repeatedly. Jekyll1886: Weir's howl of pain quickly morphed into a cry of rage. He bit Griffin in the thigh as hard as he could, then spat the blood onto the invisible man in the largest spread possible, the red droplets hitting Hawley's torso, neck, and face. Dr. H. Griffin: "ARGH! YOU BIT ME!" shrieked Griffin, managing to wriggle free of Weir's grasp, wiping off the blood. Jekyll1886: "I'll do more 'n that, if you pull that sh*t again!" snarled Weir, his accent hewing away from its typical, posh elocution and toward something more Edinburgher or Glaswegian. Blood painted his lips and stained his teeth, the color incongruously matching his perfectly tailored crimson waistcoat. The pupils of his eyes seemed to have dilated, or perhaps it was simply the dark look Lewis leveled at Griffin. Dr. H. Griffin: "Aheheh, you can try." Griffin took a nearby spade buried in a soil patch, ready for defence. Jekyll1886: The taste of blood in his mouth took him back...to another time, another place, seemingly a lifetime ago. His gaze settled on the tip of the spade. Beyond it, he knew, was Griffin. And the garden. He breathed in...and smelled wisteria. He was here, not elsewhere. This wasn't a deadly situation. Didn't have to be, anyway, despite the iron tang on his tongue. "Sod off, Griffin," said Weir, his tone and accent back to a semblance of normality. He tucked the notes in his pocket, picked up his crutches, and stood. "For once in your life, do the smart thing and get yourself to the infirmary before infection sets in," he advised, looking at the steady trickle of blood from Hawley's thigh. Dr. H. Griffin: The spade dropped from the air, clattering loudly to the cobbled path. All that was heard was Griffin moaning. "Argh, damn it." The sound of bare feet on stone became quieter and quieter. Jekyll1886: Lewis breathed a sigh of relief, despite the massive amount of adrenaline still coursing through his system. '' I do not need a body to dispose of, invisible or no...'' he thought to himself, and started down the path. Category:Main Plot